A Change of Dress
by MagicInHerMadness
Summary: Pitch fanfic b/c there's no category next. Bawson. Ginny wears a new outfit to a party, unaware that it will change her relationship with Mike forever.


**A/N: Another new show, another ship. I am trash. Unrepentant, wallowing in the gutter, shipper trash. And Baswon is LIFE! It's only been a few episodes and hoooooh my god, I'm hooked. Who knew Zach Morris would up grow into the man of my dreams? And that beard? Jesus be a fence… Kylie Bunburry's an actual goddess to top it off. I wanna sit at her throne and fan her with a palm leaf tbh. So, because I'm like that, I've written a little something. It's smut, because, as I said, I'm like that.**

That dress. Mike had gone on the record on many a talk show proclaiming Padres blue as his favorite color, but this particular shade of orange, set against this particular shade of brown skin, was giving his favorite a run for its money.

And her neck. Mike remembered a few ancient poems from college English classes where a woman's neck was praised, and his own eye roll that accompanied their reading. But now he got it. There was something about the smooth skin, left bare by the taming of her springy curls, that begged for his attention. His mouth to be more exact.

Her collarbones, delicate but stately, and her cleavage drew his eyes next. He realized he'd never really seen her chest before. Shirtless players were so common in the locker room that he didn't even notice them anymore. But now there was Ginny, always wearing a Nike sports bra or tank top. And of course he'd looked (a side effect of functioning eyes and libido) but he had written them off as nothing special, your average B cups streamlined by moisture-wicking lycra. Now prominently displayed, he could see he'd been mistaken. He had to drag his eyes away, remind himself that he was ogling a teammate.

Next came her legs. They seemed to go on forever until they disappeared under the short hem of her sinfully tight dress. He might have believed they went right up to her waist except for the generous curve of her hips. Again, he had to make himself look away. She was still his rookie, even if she looked nothing like her usual self.

He stared too long and caught her eye as she scanned the club's dwindling crowd. She smiled as she walked over, her gait swaying slightly. He guessed it was the difference between four inch heels and her treasured flyknits.

"I guess I missed the party," she said with a slight slur that gave her sway new meaning. "Fucking uber decided to take the freeway and we got to sit there for an hour."

"An hour you spent with his minibar, I'm guessing," Mike replied.

She almost answered but the music distracted her. "I fucking love this song!"

She threw her hands up and started dancing. No, not dancing. Writing was a far more accurate description for the way she moved to the song.

 _I got you touching on your body_ , the singer crooned and Mike thought his eyes would fall out of his head as Ginny's thin, delicately boned began a slow, determined caress from her neck to her breasts then down over the smooth expanse of her stomach to her hips. He was too close before they reached her thighs, his belt buckle bumping her gyrating hip. "Jesus, Baker. What'd you drink?"

"Something called Kinky. It's pink. And _goooood_ ," she replied, talking a half step back to grind against him. She grinned, her dimple popping out. "Dance with me, old man."

He didn't want to, for a myriad of reasons, but he would rather dance with her than watch her. He didn't need that image haunting him all night. And if he was being honest, he didn't want anyone else dancing with her. Especially not when he spotted Duarte walking in with his entourage like he was really something. Mike frowned and steered Ginny to a back corner where she continued her Salome impersonation, her ass pressed against him like she was trying to start a fire with friction.

She looked back at him with a smirk, that damn dimple mocking him. "You can't dance."

"I don't have the knees for it anymore," he replied.

She laughed and he almost groaned. How he loved that sound. And now, coupled with her breasts bouncing dangerously, it was almost his undoing. "Well shit, if you can't dance, I know what else you can't do."

It took him a moment to make the connection and he scowled at her, aware that she'd turned his ears red like he was 14 again. He shook his head. "You have no idea what I'm capable of, _rookie_."

"I'd challenge you, but I can't injure my catcher."

Mike rolled his eyes, feeling the gentle buzz of his own drinks easing up on him. He smirked. "You'd never stand up straight again if I had my way."

She looked back at him, something like mischief flashing in her eyes. "If you had your way? So I was right."

"Right about what?" he questioned.

"The way you look at me sometimes, when you think I can't see you. I always pegged you for a breast man but you're surprisingly into my ass."

Mike's eyes widened, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline. He was sure he'd been careful enough to not get caught, but apparently Ginny was more observant than he thought. He should have guessed. He only replied, "You're a beautiful woman, Baker."

"You're not too bad yourself, old man."

Mike smirked. "I am _everything_ , rookie. Your hero worship just set the bar too high. I'm not the guy hanging on your bedroom wall anymore."

She laughed, sagging against him. "That guy knew better than to let a small animal live on his face."

"You only hate the beard because you don't know its magic."

She raised her eyebrows. "Magic? Like what?"

Feeling bold, he leaned in and nuzzled her lightly perfumed neck, making sure his beard scraped the lamb soft skin on the hollow of her throat. He licked his lips, breathed softly on her earlobe. "It's nothing special."

She shivered and he smiled, thinking he still had it. He knew he did—any number of groupies could attest to that—but Ginny was something else entirely. To turn her head was an accomplishment for which he hadn't considered himself qualified. She lifted her gaze to meet his, looking at him almost shyly from under her thick lashes, and he remembered that she was his rookie.

The next few minutes were a blur as they slipped out of the club unseen thanks to Duarte's entourage getting in a scuffle. The captain in him wanted to turn back, to grab his player and haul him out of the place, but Duarte wanted to be hot shit. He'd be a particularly steaming pile on TMZ for the next few days. Mike almost grinned as the elevator doors closed on him and Ginny. She wrapped around him from behind, her hands snaking over his chest and the firmness of his almost abs. "I can't believe I'm gonna bone _the_ Mike Lawson."

Mike laughed. " _You_ won't be doing the boning but I take your point, rookie."

She laughed, gentle but with enough force to press her breasts into his back. She nipped his earlobe and Mike's knees almost buckled. "Why can't you let me have the last word?"

He turned around, quicker than someone would expect from a man with knees and a back like his, and pressed her against the wall, holding her wrists behind her back. He smiled. "Because I'm the man around here, rookie. You'll learn soon enough."

"Will I, captain?" To say his pants didn't tighten at the sound of her calling him captain, saying it with her eyes so soft but so wanting, would be a damnable lie.

Mike fully pressed against her, finally satisfying his need to kiss her—a need he'd been suppressing since the moment he saw her—and let out the softest groan. It was the release of a thousand wants, wants he wouldn't breathe to a soul lest he be branded a dirty old man. He cupped her face, nudged her mouth open and licked his way inside, growled at the softness of her moans. "I've been wanting to teach you a lesson since I met you, Baker."

"Yeah?" It came out like a whimper because his mouth was locked on her pulse point, his teeth sinking into the pliant flesh and almost making her knees buckle.

"Fuck...yeah," he breathed into the hollow of her throat. If his brain had had control of his blood flow, if he could have formed a single complete thought, he might have laughed at himself. Thirty-six years old and dry-humping in a nightclub elevator. But one of her mile-long legs had snaked around his waist, pulled him closer to her quivering center, and nothing else mattered.

The supple flesh in his hands, alternately and simultaneously breasts, hips, and thighs, made him thankful for the club's pretentious height over the city. He wondered what sort of person had the money to build a club with eight floors of private rooms beneath its main room—and briefly wondered how he could get one of these rooms when their grinding reached a near frenzy—but Ginny's hands in his hair drew his thoughts back to the present. No, the private room wouldn't do. It was a public kind of privacy that was too subjective, too risky, and too short-lived. He needed complete privacy for this mission, and all the time in the world.

Finally, the elevator stopped and he released her as reluctantly as a fish leaving water. She sighed, looking like she was descending back to earth. "Wow. Okay. Wow. Hi."

Mike chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to clean off her lipstick—lipstick he'd smeared all over her mouth—then reached out to push her disheveled hair back from her flushed face. "Hi."

He pushed the button to shut the elevator's doors again, holding it so they would stay closed long enough for her to clean up her mouth and hair. He took a few deep breaths while he waited, willing his own body to get ready for being in front of people again. Apparently being with a twenty-something had turned his clock back a few years. He was sporting a full-blown hard-on, creating a noticeable lump in his pants. When it showed no signs of weakening, he decided to just move quickly. He looked back at Ginny. "You good?"

She nodded and tugged at the slightly bunched hem of her dress then followed him out of the elevator. "My uber's right out front."

"Curb-side service? Oh to be so famous," he teased.

He was delighted when she laughed. "Fuck you, Lawson."

"So eager. Sure you're not a groupie?"

Mike found another fight working in their favor outside the nightclub. Two girls who had each other by the hair, twirling in an endless circle beside the long line, distracted everyone from their exit. The driver's eyebrows quirked at the sight of Mike, but he didn't comment, instead just pulling away from the curb. Mike grimaced when he made his way to the freeway on ramp. Ginny shot him a look and he laughed. "Give me some of what you had earlier, Baker."

She went into the mini bar and pulled out a tiny pink bottle. He almost laughed as he held it. "This is so pretty."

"Just drink it old man," she replied.

So he did, turning up the bottle and downing its contents in a single gulp. The buzz was almost instant and he leaned back in his seat. "Whoa."

Ginny laughed. "I did the same thing."

Hidden by the SUV's high-backed seats, her hand found his thigh, her index finger making small circles on his denim-covered leg. Mike felt his body react almost immediately, the lump in his pants quickly returning. He watched Ginny notice, and smiled at the way she grinned, apparently quite pleased.

She straightened in her seat, pulled her phone from a tiny purse that he'd somehow missed and looked down at it. He frowned at the loss of her attention until her hand crept to his crotch. She began a rhythmic squeezing that made his jaw slacken and his breathing labored. He pulled out his own phone to distract himself and sent her a text: u have to stop

She quickly replied: lol no

By the time they reached her apartment building, his hard-on was back with full force, throbbing in his pants as he pulled her to the elevator. He slammed the door close button repeatedly then hit her floor number button with equal force. Ginny snickered. "What's the rush?"

He answered by pressing her against the wall again, thankful for 23 floors between them and an interruption. He pushed up her dress, cupped the lush globes of her ass in his hand and squeezed them wantonly. The sound of his palm clapping with the uncovered flesh seemed to echo in the small space, as did the gasp that followed. Ginny gave an almost fiendish grin, grinding her core against his. She gripped the lapels of his blazer, looking at him with wanton eyes. "Do it again."

Mike eagerly acquiesced and repeated the gesture, grinding against her for emphasis. He smiled against the already dark hickey on her neck. "Like that?"

"Yes," she hissed, her hand wedging between them to reach his zipper. She slipped from his grasp, dropped to her knees and Mike watched with wide eyes as she quickly undid his pants.

"Jesus, Baker, don't—" He couldn't finish the rest of the sentence because he was in her mouth. "Baker…Ginny…"

Her eyes leapt to his at this. He almost never used her name except when something was serious. Judging by his closed eyes and the heaviness of his breathing, this was serious. Mike couldn't believe the electricity in his veins at the feeling of her mouth, her deliciously warm mouth. Her skill was modest, but still he was ready to crawl out of his skin. It wasn't the act itself—he'd been there enough times for it to be almost run of the mill—but the fact that it was Ginny, his rookie. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't an interesting stroke for his ego, having his rookie— _this_ rookie—on her knees for him. It would have been even more of a lie to say he hadn't fantasized about it, filling her flippant little mouth. His hand found its way to her hair and he clutched her curls, groaning deeply as he pumped into her mouth. "Baker you've gotta stop before…before…"

She released him with a wet pop and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand then almost politely tried to fix his pants. Mike gave a tipsy laugh at her inexperienced handling of his erection. He moved her hands away. "I've got it."

She stood and fixed her dress, a little smirk on her face as she looked at him. "You called me Ginny."

Mike shrugged, blushing as the elevator finally came to a stop. "Just in time."

Ginny lead the way to her apartment and unlocked the door, giggling as Mike played with the zipped on the back of her dress. She stepped out of her pumps and let her hair down as Mike locked the door. He looked around the small, minimally decorated apartment. "Nice place. It almost looks like someone lives here."

She laughed. "Shut up."

He took off his jacket, turned to hang it on the hook beside the door. He turned back and his mouth fell open at the sight of his rookie, standing before him in only her panties. He'd certainly seen fancier lingerie than her black cotton thong, trimmed almost cutely with lace, but there was something about the way she looked at him almost shyly, one knee nudging the other. His eyes moved up her abs to her breasts.

She'd been right when she pegged him as a breast man. They were larger than he'd thought when he saw them in her dress, definitely a C if he was still as accurate at gauging as he used to be, with upturned brown nipples that made his mouth water. "Baker…"

She giggled almost shyly, covering her chest then slowly lowering her arms. "I can't believe I'm naked with Mike Lawson."

"Wait until you see _me_ naked. You might faint," he replied with a smile. He knew he was blushing, but he didn't mind at the moment. His ego had plumed to peacock status.

Ginny laughed, leaning back against the couch. She looked at him almost expectantly. "Well…"

Mike's eyes widened when he realized he was still fully dressed. "Oh. Say no more. Didn't mean to keep you waiting."

He made a show of undressing before her, his smile so smug. Ginny rolled her eyes. "Would you just get on with it?"

Mike grinned. "So impatient, rookie. Eager to fulfill that fantasy?"

"I'd just like to know why you're giving me a porno strip tease."

His smile became a smirk. "Okay first of all, fuck you. Second, let's not act like you're not what, five years out of the sexual minor leagues? Why don't you let a seasoned player call this inning?"

She threw up her hands. "Forgive me, captain."

"You are not gonna make this easy on yourself are you, Baker?"

Ginny laughed. "I've been headstrong my whole life, old man. You're gonna have to give it your full effort to break the likes of me."

Mike tossed her over his shoulder, giving her bottom a smack. "Challenge accepted."

He carried her into her room and dropped her on her bed then looked around the room. The walls were painted almost Padres blue, complimenting her blue-gray bedspread. He looked at her with a frown. "Where's my poster?"

"That was supposedly in my _childhood_ bedroom, Lawson."

He pointed to a stuffed duck sitting at the head of the bed. "So you kept this, but not a treasured poster of your hero?"

"If it makes you feel any better, thirteen-year-old Ginny would have literally died at the mere thought of you being in her bedroom." She stretched out on the bed, her legs almost reaching where he stood and Mike faltered in removing his jeans as he looked her over. She had legs for days, toned from her beloved elliptical machine. She rolled onto her stomach, kicked her feet up and crossed her legs as she looked at him with the sweetest smile. "What?"

Mike realized he was staring, shifted his gaze. "Nothing. You're just…beautiful, Baker."

She dropped her gaze to the bedspread and he could see the color on her cheeks before her curls fell like a curtain. A beat passed and she still didn't look up at him so he plopped onto the bed beside her, wrapped his arm around her head and pulled her into an almost head lock. "You're supposed to say thank you, or compliment me back you little shit."

She laughed, looking up at him with an expression that was such unabashed delight that he almost stopped breathing. "Wasn't the childhood confession enough?"

She draped her leg over him, scooting over so her breasts pressed against the warmth of his chest. "What do you want me to say, Lawson?"

He flips her over so quickly that she gasps then laughs, her face alight with that look again. Apparently she liked to be handled. Mike made a note of it, thinking he was a rather big fan himself. He sat up on his knees, ignoring the twinge, then hooked his fingers in the waistband of her underwear. "Up."

Ginny obediently lifted her hips, swinging her legs onto his shoulders, and Mike pulled her panties off. Running his hands down her calves, the smooth expanses of skin seemed to go on forever. He looked down at her clean-shaven sex then cupped her, pressing his thumb to her bundle of nerves, making slow determined circles that made her head rock back and forth on the pillow, her eyes rolling shut. Ginny whined, her hips rocking to get more of the sensation threatening to pull her out of her skin. "Like that?"

She nodded frantically, mewling softly, and gave a sharp inhale when he took his hand away. Her hips rocketed off the bed to chase it. "Mike please!"

He looked at her, his eyebrows raised. "Did my bratty girl just say please?"

Her expression flickered from surprise at being called his girl to unabashed need. She gave a stubborn nod and he smirked. "Use your words, Baker."

"Mike." This time she whined it, sitting up and going for his almost painful erection. Mike watched, rapt, as she contorted to lower her mouth onto him, her lips clutching him almost needily.

He hissed at the sensation, almost forgetting himself, then grabbed her ponytail again and pulled her back. "Alright."

He smacked her thigh. "On your knees, rookie."

Ginny obediently rolled over onto her knees and Mike grabbed her pillows from the head of the bed then stuffed them underneath her. He caressed the smooth expanse of her lower back, kneaded her tender flesh. "You ready?"

She nodded, not looking back, only deepening the arch in her back to offer herself. "Jesus, rookie…"

Mike took hold of her hips, leaned over to look closely at her glistening folds. He couldn't resist a tentative lick that quickly turned into a feast much to Ginny's delight. She clutched the bedsheets, moaning in a voice so soft Mike almost couldn't believe it belonged to a woman who twenty-four hours prior had called him a "mountain man son of a bitch" for stopping her from storming the mound during practice when someone low-balled her. He hooked his arms around her legs, holding her quivering thighs apart as she writhed on the pile of pillows. Nudging her slick lips apart, he found his target and locked onto it, tugging at the hard nub. He switched to fast licks and she almost leapt out of his grasp but he held her steady.

"Shit," she whimpered, her legs almost vibrating. "Oh shit, Mike. Shit. Mike. Shit."

It became a chant until it dissolved into frantic whimpers before she went totally silent, frozen in a silent scream. Mike smiled when she gasped back to life. She collapsed, sated and boneless, across the pillows, her breathing shaky. He again took hold of her hips with one hand, using the other to line himself up. "You tapping out already?"

Ginny lifted her head and shook it weakly. Mike smirked, thinking perhaps he'd worked her too hard too soon. He shook his own head. "Come on, rookie. You can go for hours at practice. What's the matter? You doping?"

She looked back at him fiercely. "Don't even, Lawson."

He laughed. "Uh oh. Woke up the beast."

"You're damn right." She righted herself on the pillows, resting her weight on her elbows. "Now are you gonna fuck me or keep talking?"

Mike plunged inside her, enveloping himself in a vice grip that made his mind go blank. Ginny's voice drew him out of his euphoria. "Tapping out already? Maybe _you_ should be doping, old man."

He replied by taking hold of her ponytail, using it as leverage to deepen the arch in her back as he set a thunderous pace. His knees were singing, but he had a point to make. "So how long have you been attracted to me?"

"You really wanna know?" Ginny found her footing, began pushing back against him. The bed groaned at his vigorous workout.

"Bet I can guess," he replied.

"Guess," she huffed, reaching back for his hand. She pulled it between her legs and Mike smirked as he played with her clit.

"All your life. I'm betting thirteen-year-old Ginny used to frequently occupy her time doing this," he rubbed the nub between his thumb and forefinger, "while she looked at my poster."

Ginny moaned loudly, pushing back against him harder, didn't immediately answer because she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right. Mike caught on quickly. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Ginny still remained defiantly silent, instead focusing on the storm swirling in her stomach. Mike's calloused palm clapped her left hip. "Answer me."

"Yes," she cried, shuddering beneath him.

He smiled, slowed to a glacial pace to reward her, and covered her body with his. He kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, anywhere his mouth could reach. "That's a good girl."

She huffed beneath him, her body quivering. His own knees were groaning along with her bedsprings. He stopped for a moment, pulled the pillows from beneath her, then rolled them onto their sides, pulling Ginny's left back over his. His fingers found her clit again, strumming it gently. Ginny moaned, reaching back to fist a clump of his hair. "Fuck, Mike."

Mike kissed her neck, jammed his tongue in her mouth then moved on to the curve of her jaw. "That's right. Say my name."

"Mike…Mike…Mike…" Each capitulation earned a deeper stroke until he bottomed out, his fingertips creating a constellation of bruises on her hip. He wasn't sure what to make of this side of her, submissive and needy, so unlike the spitfire rookie he was used to locking horns with. He almost missed it, but there was something to this Ginny as well. The gentle way she moaned "Mike" would forever run a close second to the angry, almost snotty, way she huffed "Lawson" when she was being the little shit who'd wormed into his heart.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum," Mike groaned in her ear, his hips picking up their pace. He rolled them over, resting his weight on his elbows despite his back's objections and set a punishing pace. "Are you gonna cum for me? I know you are."

Ginny's reply was a jerky nod and a series of high-pitched gasps that seemed to want to be words but never made it.

"Come on Ginny. Cum for me," he goaded, sliding his hand beneath them to find her clit again. He'd remember how responsive it made her for the next time. The thought almost made him pause to ponder his presumptuousness, but the tightening of his muscles wouldn't let his mind wander off course. He needed her to fall apart before he could let go. "Come on. Cum for me. I know you're close Ginny. You can let go. I'll cum with you. Fuck Ginny…baby…"

His croaked term of endearment, his face buried in her neck, shattered her and she climaxed with a mighty scream of his name, collapsing beneath him. Mike rushed toward his own end, his knees irrelevant as his hips pistoned. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Ginny!"

Blood roared in his ears as he exploded, unintentionally dropping his weight onto her. His chest heaved as he recovered, nosing through her damp curls to kiss the crown of her head. "Jesus, Baker…"

He rolled onto his side, pulling her with him, still moving inside her purely for emotional satisfaction. She yawned, reaching up to lazily scratch his beard, and Mike smiled. "I knew you'd become a disciple of the beard."

She laughed and it hit him. He liked her. There was a certain kindredness of spirits between them as athletes, and general friendship too, but this was something else. This was different. Cuddling her in his arms, sharing his warmth as her body cooled off and covered with goose bumps, he realized there was nowhere else he'd rather be. And definitely no one else he'd rather be with, which was a feeling he'd never had in near countless nights of casual sex. He wasn't even sure he could call this casual. This had been half a season in the making, growing with every lingering look, every stupid joke, every late night call. He used his chin to pull her hair off her neck, kissed the bright red sign of his fixation with her taste. She looked at him with dreamy eyes and a wide grin, her dimple back. Her nose scrunched adorably. "Did you call me _baby_ , Lawson?"

"I did. Now shut up, rookie." He popped a kiss on her cheek. "What do you wanna eat?"

"I didn't invite you to spend the night."

He almost second-guessed his presumptions until she snickered. He nipped her shoulder. "I didn't ask either. What about pizza?"

"I want Chinese," she answered.

"That's a better choice. If I eat pepperoni this late, I'll be dead in the morning."

She laughed. "I'll call. You start the shower."

She moved to get off him but Mike wrapped his arms around her. "Let's hang out a minute. I'm having fun."

His hips resumed their lazy rhythm and Ginny smirked. "Party's over, old man."

"Not for me. I'm almost 40. In two months, I'll be in the MLB hall of fame. And I'm laying underneath a twenty-year-old, the first female major leaguer. I'm literally _inside_ history right now." He laughed, his cheeks ruddy. "I could die like this."

Ginny laughed, pressing a kiss to his chin, then lay her head on his shoulder. "Call me baby again."

 **A/N: Don't forget to review! XOXOXOXO**


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